


late bloomer

by shiromantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiromantic/pseuds/shiromantic
Summary: Sylvain examines the flowers, while passing Felix a bill with his other hand. He looks at him and asks, “Do you know the language of flowers, Felix?”Felix hits the cash register buttons with his fingers, and the old thing makes a loud noise when its money drawer pops open. He doesn’t trust himself not to stutter if he looks back up. “The lilies mean give me a quarter next time so I can give you even change."He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re lying.”
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Implied Dimitri/Dedue
Comments: 28
Kudos: 185
Collections: Sylvix Big Bang





	late bloomer

**Author's Note:**

> this is my fic for the [#sylvixbigbang2020](https://twitter.com/SylvixBigBang) event! 
> 
> the first art piece is by [@fenneccake](https://twitter.com/fenneccake) and the second art piece is by [@phantasananas](https://twitter.com/PhantasAnanas) ! thank you for being my partners during this wild wild ride !
> 
> and also shoutout to my beta-reader aquila for being my moral support through this journey. you can check out her fics on ao3 [@postfixrevolution](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfixrevolution/pseuds/postfixrevolution) !

When Felix was five years old, he trampled the flowerbed carelessly in a game of tag with Dimitri and Ingrid. Afterwards, Felix cried upon realization. Dimitri took the blame, but Felix still walked around dandelions on the sidewalk for months after that incident. Somehow, he still managed to step into his neighbour’s gardens instead. After that, he cried again. 

Dirt, grass, and sunburnt skin remain in memories as they sit in a coffee shop booth. Felix doesn’t really cry anymore, and he’s garnered a reputation of being brash and unnecessarily sharp-tongued. Dimitri still takes the blame for him with grace, but Ingrid finds it easier to scold him without the tears. 

She also finds it easier to tease him relentlessly. So, when Dimitri asks him to work in his flower-shop, Ingrid laughs. 

“What’s so funny?” Felix snaps. He knows the answer already. It’s because he’s Felix Hugo Fraldarius: someone who steps on pansies and petunias and doesn’t realize the damage until it’s over.

“Sorry, I just - ” She inhales deeply, and then continues with barely stifled giggles, “You just don’t exactly fit the image, I guess.”

_“What the hell does that mean?”_

She ignores him and just looks at Dimitri next to Felix in the seating booth. “Have you seen this guy’s apartment? I think the cactus Annette gave him died last week.” 

Felix huffs. He settles deeper in his seat and mutters, “There’s a fern now.” 

All Ingrid does is snort loudly. Dimitri just smiles earnestly because, _of course he’s serious._ Felix doesn’t think he ever does anything without heart. “You’ve been job searching for quite some time, Felix! Currently, it is just myself and Dedue. He intends on applying to college and thus, needs more employees. He is quite kind, and can help teach you as he did with me.”

Felix’s frown deepens. “I don’t need your help.” 

“Of course,” Dimitri says pleasantly. He takes a sip from his chamomile tea and sets it down before adding, “I just thought that it might be something you would be interested in.” 

Ingrid groans. “Oh, come on, Felix. You’ve been looking for a job for the past six months - and when an opportunity literally falls into your lap, you turn it away?”

Folding his arms, he grumbles, “I don’t like flowers.” 

An exasperated sigh from Ingrid, and a small “Oh dear” from Dimitri. She then follows up with, “Seriously, Felix?” 

“They’re useless,” he insists. “They serve no purpose, and they die if you don’t pay attention to them.”

“That’s not true! They, uh,” she pauses. Felix knows for a fact that Ingrid has no houseplants and has never asked for flowers for her birthday. She appreciates a meal more than anything, and he watches her struggle for a retort. 

It’s Dimitri who gently suggests, “They smell nice?” 

“Yeah!” Ingrid agrees. “Besides, you don’t need to love your part-time job. It’s just temporary.”

Felix decides not to answer and just sips from his black coffee. It’s gone cold from sitting there for the past hour, and he grimaces before setting it back down. 

“Just give it a chance,” she sighs. “Dimitri can show you. He probably breaks things every day but he’s still there.”

Dimitri nods, not even refuting her claim. God, how is he still working there? “I am certain that if I can do it, then you are more than capable, Felix.” 

“I’m not doing it,” he repeats firmly. Accepting the job would mean that he has to admit that he’s been rejected and deemed undesirable from every other employer he applied to. He isn’t going to waste his time learning how to tie a bow when he could be doing something productive. 

“But you need the money!” Ingrid cries out. “For your, like, sword collection. Or something.”

“I collect _katanas_ , Ingrid.”

Dimitri claps his hands together. “I’m certain that you would not need to work long to achieve your goal. Dedue and I could surely find someone else afterwards.” 

Felix thinks about all the flowers he’ll have to memorize, wrap, and pretend to care about. He thinks about wearing that same dumb apron as Dimitri with a sticker nametag stuck to his chest. 

He thinks about the micro-crystalline wax polish. It would protect his katanas from dust particles _and_ prevent rust. 

Felix sighs. “Whatever. You owe me.”

The expression that lights up Dimitri’s face would make you think Felix just found his lost dog. “I’ll tell Dedue right away!”

“Try to last two weeks, at least,” Ingrid teases. The worst thing is that she genuinely means it. He glares at her anyway.

\- 

Dimitri texts him later that night to say that he got the job, with several excited emojis attached. Felix asks for his schedule. Several minutes later, he is sent a blurry photo. Then another. It takes four more blurry photos until Dimitri is able to hold his camera still and he can decipher his shift schedule. 

His first shift is tomorrow morning with Dimitri. The first two weeks are his training, so Felix will be paired up with either Dimitri or Dedue during his shifts. Dimitri says something about ‘taking it easy’ and letting Felix work weekends before assigning him weekdays too. Felix cringes at the idea of closing the shop before heading to class the next day. When Felix texts him to ask if he needs to bring anything, all Dimitri tells him is to come with a good attitude - quite bold of him to say after asking Felix to arrive at 8am on a weekend. Dimitri explains that it’s to teach him the basics before customers arrive when they open an hour later.

Winter morning is a cold, dark thing that freezes him to the core no matter what he wears. The wind combs its icy hands through his wet hair from his morning shower once he exits his apartment. He roughly throws the hood up and pulls at the strings as a way to tighten it and protect his face. Withdrawing his phone from his back pocket, he looks at the detailed map instructions that Dimitri gave him, finds the address, and just puts it into Google Maps. There’s a text message from Ingrid wishing him luck on his first day and he makes sure to send a cat gif to her. 

He doesn’t see the shop first, but rather Dimitri. His blonde hair is always shining, somehow. Felix thinks that he’s also the only one who is crazy enough to wear a t-shirt and jeans in this weather. People have always joked that Dimitri’s immunity to frostbite is due to dealing with Felix’s bite since childhood. Felix didn’t bother confirming or denying. 

Before Dimitri can say anything, he snaps, “Just hurry and open the door already. It’s freezing.”

The shop sits in between abandoned stores, and if Felix was walking past, he would’ve assumed the store itself was abandoned too. The wooden steps up to the front porch creak under the weight of both of them. There’s a wooden sign that looks worn from the weather but carefully hand-carved with the shop name: _Bleum._ Dimitri unlocks the door with a tiny key into the knob and has to shove the door open after last night’s frost. 

“Perhaps I should’ve mentioned there’s no heating,” Dimitri says, once they’re inside. Felix bites down his groan. 

It’s a linear path to the counter with the greenhouse behind it. Either side of the room has pre-wrapped bouquets in baskets, accompanied by various succulents and cacti lining the walls on wooden shelves. Several planters hang above them, and Dimitri has to lower his head to not brush against them. The vibrant foliage reminds Felix of spring, and it’s unfortunate that the winter air leaking through the floorboards ruins everything. 

There are fresh flowers behind the counter for custom bouquets. Each species is in its own designated bucket: tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies. Truthfully, Felix doesn't recognize any others. Each species has a unique colouring and silhouette. There’s some wrapping and twine already on the countertop next to the old cash register and empty tip jar. 

“We’ll be making bouquets together for the display window,” Dimitri says cheerfully. Felix feels whatever was left of his miniscule good attitude begins to fade away.

He is led into the greenhouse, which is about the same size as the actual shop itself. The glass walls reveal an empty parking lot. Among the various plants, he only manages to identify a single fern just like the one he has at home. Several plants tower over Dimitri, their branches pressed along the glass ceiling as if reaching for the sun. He steps around broken pots and several spilled bags of fertilizer. 

“Customers rarely ask for these, but it is important to maintain them. It’s rather rewarding to see them grow. This one has a flower blossoming.”

Felix stares at the potted plant on the floor. He doesn’t know how to react to a blooming flower with the same kind of pride and excitement, so he just says, “So, I just need to water them?” 

“Yes, but it’s important to be careful,” Dimitri explains. “Some plants require more water than others. Afterwards, you simply write down if you watered them during your shift for us to know.”

He squints. “Wouldn’t you know because the dirt is wet?”

“Well,” he starts slowly. “Some plants do not require water every day.”

The way Dimitri says it makes him feel stupid, so he just lets himself be led back to the counter again. He hands Felix his working apron from underneath the counter, and smiles. “I believe I covered most of the basics. Any questions?” 

Felix rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t have any. Just teach me how to tie flowers together, Dimitri.”

Dimitri ties the back of his apron on and takes a few stems from beside him without looking. “I advise that you observe first before attempting one yourself. That is how Dedue taught me.”

The process is devastatingly simple. Aligning the flowers on rectangular tissue paper, folding both ends together and then tying it with twine. Dimitri’s hands move with practiced grace, and the slower pace doesn’t even seem necessary with how simple the movements were.

“Do you wish to try now?” Dimitri asks. “Or do you want to watch me try again?”

Felix scoffs. “I’ve got it.”

He grabs a bunch of tulips, some tissue paper, and places them on the counter top. Fold, wrap the twine over, and tie a knot. Once finished, the two of them hold their respective bouquets side to side. 

Felix frowns. “Why does mine look like shit?”

“I am not...certain,” Dimitri admits. “You did all the steps correctly.” 

His eyes flit back and forth between the two bouquets. There are wrinkles in his tissue paper wrapping and somehow, Felix grabbed all the wilting tulips from the bunch. Or maybe his bow ended up strangling the stems and forcing the flowers to droop together.

“You know, my first bouquet was not perfect either.” This is Dimitri’s nicest way of saying that his bouquet sucked.

They both stare at the tulips. The bulbs are tilted forward as if bowing their heads in shame. 

“I am confident that over these next few months, you will show improvement.” This is Dimitri’s nicest way of saying that Felix is probably going to suck for a long time, and maybe never get good. 

Felix sighs and feels all his energy escape his body in the exhale. “Let’s just get this day over with.”

-

Felix dreads meeting new people - he doesn’t know how they’ll react to his sharpness, and he hasn’t mastered how to soften himself yet. Although, if Dedue is really as observant and _wonderful_ as Dimitri says, he might already know plenty about Felix after yesterday, just by judging his bouquet work. The bell twinkles over his head when he opens the door, and he sees Dedue standing by the counter.

He glances upwards as he snips off stems with a pair of scissors that are dwarfed by his large hands. The natural roll of his shoulders as he leans slightly down suggests that he’s spent most of his life making himself small. 

“Those are my flowers,” Felix says. He remembers it clearly - how Dimitri kept trying to tell Felix to try mixing other flowers and colours for the vase arrangement. After arguing the appropriateness of roses in a memorial bouquet for ten minutes (Felix didn’t understand the problem), Dimitri decided that they should take their lunch break. 

Dedue blinks. “You forgot to trim the stems.” 

“I didn’t forget,” he huffs. Felix walks past the counter to grab his apron and throw it on, not bothering to tie the back. Dedue doesn’t say anything to him when Felix walks past him to go spritz the greenhouse plants with attitude. 

He returns to the front counter once he feels that he watered the plants with enough vigour. On the counter, he sees his flower arrangement completely changed. The vase sits, absent of the different flowers that he and Dimitri chose together, mostly replaced by green foliage and pale flowers. If Felix could describe it, he’d compare it to a claymore. Regal, clean, and simple. 

“Felix, can you pass me a peony?” Dedue asks. He is now rewrapping another one of Felix’s bouquets and loosens the knot with a tug on the frayed string. 

None of the containers of fresh flowers are labelled. Peony sounds like the way seven year old Ingrid pronounced the word _pony_ when she got too excited. Felix grabs a yellow flower and hands it to Dedue. 

His expression does not change - in fact, Felix doesn’t think his expression has changed since he walked in. However, the way he looks at the flower and back at Felix says enough. Dedue silently places the flower back into the container and grabs a flower that looks like a ball made of layered lace.

Felix frowns. The quiet stretches on with the sound of tissue paper being moved across wood and folded against itself by gentle hands. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asks. 

Dedue hums in response. Felix thinks he might pop a blood vessel. 

“I don’t know if Dimitri told you to be nice to me or whatever, but I don’t need it,” he retorts. “You can just fire me or whatever, I don’t care.” 

“I don’t want to do that,” he murmurs with his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. Felix follows his hands and it’s the same steps: tissue paper, twine, fold, tie. It’s clear in his process that Dimitri’s practiced grace is all fake - he’s only trying to replicate Dedue’s craftsmanship. 

“Why?” Felix asks. “Because you pity me?” 

Dedue shakes his head. “Perhaps, this is out of line, but somehow, I think you need this job more than I need you.”

He flushes deeply. Felix thinks about quitting just to prove him wrong, but he remembers his _katana_ collection. Instead, he just scoffs and grabs several peonies and tissue paper and begins to wrap while his red ears burn. Dedue doesn’t say anything, but he does offer Felix new wrapping when he rips it. 

It is nearly dusk when the customer for the memorial bouquet finally arrives. Her gloves hold the vase shakily and Felix has a hard time looking into her grateful smile. When they make eye contact, he tries his best to return the same. The white lily center-piece matches her pearl necklace.

Once he’s back home, he receives a text from Dimitri. 

Dimitri [8:25pm]: How was work with Dedue today? :)

Felix [8:26pm]: We’re really bad at our jobs.

Dimitri [8:30pm]: Yeah. :(

-

Felix keeps working, keeps wrapping, and learns what a daffodil is. A month later, around mid-February, he feels more confident in his bouquet skills - but his customer service still has more to be desired, apparently. He learned how to make mediocre flower arrangements in a month, but he thinks learning how to be cheerful is a lost cause. 

Dedue is akin to a marble statue and Dimitri uses the word ‘harkens’ on a daily basis, but Felix is the one who needs to change. And yet, Dedue and Dimitri both manage to still get regulars - which is more than Felix can say as he watches his customers talk through their teeth before fleeing the shop and never coming back.

The old porch creaks under the weight of every customer, and Felix always hears them before the dingy bell rings when the door opens. He looks up briefly to repeat the sixteenth “Welcome” this morning, then returns to wrapping some bouquets for display. His brain catches up later - and his head and heart treacherously rise at the same time. 

His first thought is another man dressed in some suit and wanting roses for some reason. Felix doesn’t really care what his customers wear, but he’s not so unobservant that he’s blind to a pattern. The suits never fit the men well - either too big in the shoulders or just a real ugly colour. Felix doesn’t have much time to analyze before giving them their purchase and listening to their loafers click against the old wood as they leave. 

Maybe that’s why he’s so curious about this customer. He’s wearing a simple dress-shirt and belted trousers while one arm holds his jacket over his shoulder. Felix could sense the nerves of every other customer that came in this week. Their ill-fitting suits with no wrinkles could not compare to the untucked shirt and the cardinal hair that looked like hands ran through them all the time. 

The customer clears his throat and says, “Uh, hey. Can I get a bouquet done?” 

Felix immediately tries to resume what he was doing before. Does the string go under or over the stems? He doesn’t remember anymore. “The roses will be twenty dollars.”

“No roses, actually. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.”

He pauses and looks up again. Squinting, he says, “What?” 

The customer raises his hands and laughs. “I know, I know. It’s our first date - and I just think roses are a bit too intense for us right now. Well, Valentine’s Day in general is pretty intense, so maybe that was my fault for saying yes to the date.”

Felix’s mouth moves faster than his brain, and he blurts out, “Valentine’s Day?” 

He tilts his head. A slow, attractive, grin begins to move across his face. “You’re a florist, and you didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day? Am I the only customer you’ve had all day?”

He flushes and looks away, before muttering, “The only customer that has started a conversation with me all day.”

“I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to chat with someone like you. The way you scowled at me when I walked in was definitely charming.”

Felix huffs. “I just sell flowers. I don’t remember being paid to be friendly.”

He laughs again. There’s clear delight in his voice. “You have no understanding of how customer service works, do you? Either that or you’ve worked so much customer service that you decided to start your own business so you don’t get chewed out from your boss for not smiling enough.” 

Felix wonders if he should add “customer service tutorial” to his to-watch playlist along with the knife-making tutorials. It must be as important as Ingrid keeps nagging him about if he’s being called out over it by a stranger. 

“I’m never going to see them again.” A sense of deja vu floods him when he realizes this is the same conversation he had with Ingrid a few days ago. _How can he talk with this stranger with the same ease as his childhood friend?_

Felix continues to speak anyway, because he feels like he has a point that needs to be made to this stranger. “And I’m not trying to be hostile. Smiling just isn’t my thing.”

He hums and places a finger on his chin in thought. Felix knows that he’s not actually thinking of anything and it makes him a little bit more insufferably attractive. “I suppose women do like the brooding type. The fact that you work at a flower shop is also subverting expectations. Smiling might ruin your mystique.”

Felix frowns. “I just said - ”

“I know, I know - all you want to do is sell your flowers,” he interrupts easily. “I just thought I’d give some advice, that’s all. I worked at a burger place once, so I guess you could say I’m a professional.”

Felix can’t stop himself from being curious. “How long did you work for?”

“A week. I got caught making out with one of the cashiers in the back-room.”

“And I should listen to you?” he replies dryly. 

“You can always trust an attractive man.” The way he says it sounds like it was an inside joke that’s told in meetings with other attractive men and their tousled hair and tailored pants. (Felix is not invited to these meetings, clearly.)

“I don’t even know your name.” Felix is about to add that the stranger doesn’t know his name either, until he remembers he’s wearing the damn nametag on his apron. 

“It’s Sylvain,” he says. He leans in closer and his tongue curls around the vowels like a spell. It makes Felix burn in a way he didn’t know was possible. “Do you trust me now, Felix?”

Felix swallows down the heart in his throat and manages to retort, “Give me your money for the flowers, and I’ll think about it.” 

Sylvain’s eyes widen and his face breaks into a boyish smile. “Whatever you want.” 

Felix ends up giving him an old bouquet of lilies and daisies he wrapped a few days ago. There’s more teasing even as he retrieves change for the twenty dollar bill he’s given (“Keep the change. Treat yourself to something nice.” “I’m sure you need it more for your lousy date.”) but Felix would be lying if he doesn’t watch Sylvain leave even after his shoes passed the creaky old porch. 

-

Felix spent the rest of yesterday wrapping rose bouquets and overestimated the amount, so today, he hastily puts 50% off stickers on them. He stares at the slightly wilting roses one more time before deciding to go for 75% instead. There has to be some sorry bastard who is going to buy late Valentine’s Day Roses.

He’s on his break when a quiet “Hello?” breaks through the old radio music and glass walls of the greenhouse room. He thinks about just letting the customer leave, especially since he hung a clear ‘Lunch Break’ sign from the doorknob. Eventually, the prospect of money persuades him to exit the greenhouse and move into the main shop parlour, and he sees Sylvain standing on the opposite side of the counter with the on-sale roses.

His grin is bright. “Hey, Felix.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, frowning. Felix doesn’t get repeat customers - and he didn’t expect his first one to be him of all people. 

“I’m here to patronize,” Sylvain says. He holds the rose bouquet up and shakes it a little. Several petals fall off the flowers and onto the floor. 

“So, she didn’t like the flowers.” Did he mention her name? Felix doesn’t remember much about the actual girl he talked about - or if they really discussed her at all.

“Nope,” he replies. Sylvain places the roses in front of Felix and leans forward with one elbow on the countertop. “She told me that she couldn’t believe that I didn’t get her roses on Valentine’s Day.” 

“So, you’re giving her roses after Valentine’s Day...to apologize for not doing it yesterday?”

“Oh no, she was so angry that we just broke up. This is for another girl.”

“I can see that you’re clearly heartbroken,” Felix comments dryly. 

“What can I say?” He shrugs. “I like to live in the present, but I will never forget the good times we had.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “There can’t be that many good times if you two couldn’t make it past the first date.”

“Hey, you’re right!” Sylvain exclaims. “Thanks for helping me with the heartbreak. Now I can look to the future.”

Felix shakes his head. “Just pay for the flowers already, Sylvain. Before your new date realizes what she’s getting into and leaves you.”

There’s an unnecessary amount of eyelash fluttering. “Oh, but you’ll console me, won’t you?” 

“If you came in here for free hospitality,” Felix drawls, “you’re in the wrong flower shop.”

“What if I’m here for company?” Sylvain smiles, leaning in closer. For all his perfection, his nose is slightly crooked. Felix can’t help but wonder if it’s from an incident where Sylvain underestimated a woman’s limit and right hook. He doesn’t know how he got to the point where he’s so curious about a stranger. “Will you still be here?” 

He swallows down the heart in his throat. Felix doesn’t miss the movement in Sylvain’s expression, but he doesn’t know what it means. “This is my job, Sylvain.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no?” he says as he rummages through the back-pocket of his well-tailored pants to pass him a crumpled ten dollar bill. 

Felix gives back the change in quarters with a scoff. “Then, come back tomorrow before I change my mind.”

-

Felix [9:30pm]: I want to work tomorrow

Dimitri [9:40pm]: Pardon?

Felix [9:41pm]: Give me your shift

Felix [9:42pm]: Go on a date or something tomorrow instead

Dimitri [10:00pm]: I’ll have you know that my relationship with Dedue is purely professional. Although, it is true that we have gotten closer over this past year, he is still my boss, and therefore, it would be inappropriate to engage in a relationship that is anything less than professional.

The text continued on for several more lines (Felix thinks there’s even a concluding paragraph) but he stopped paying attention after Dimitri started explaining the differences between platonic admiration and romantic attraction. 

-

Sylvain does come back tomorrow, and this time he is in a dark hoodie with his hands tucked into his jean pockets. He looks good like this too, and Felix can’t help but be self-conscious about whether he chose the apron with or without the dirt stains on them this shift. 

“You actually showed up,” he blurts out. The words are breathless as if his heart just forced them out of his chest. 

Sylvain’s head tilts. “I didn’t want you to change your mind.”

Felix Hugo Fraldarius doesn’t change his mind, but Sylvain doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to know anything - how he wasn’t supposed to work today, the strange look from Dedue when he saw Felix instead of Dimitri, and an even stranger look when Felix asked if anyone came in asking for him. It is a blessing and a curse that Dedue doesn’t say much. 

“You still need to buy something,” he finally says. 

“Are you saying my presence isn’t good enough for you, Felix?” Sylvain gasps. He holds his hand up to his chest in a dramatic gesture. “I’m wounded.”

“ _Sylvain._ ” 

“Okay, okay.” He raises his arms up with a laugh. “What do you recommend for an apology bouquet?”

Felix feels his mouth go sour when he remembers why Sylvain is here. “What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Some silence. Sylvain adds, “Literally. I forgot to show up to the date.” 

Felix can almost feel his sore hands after hours of wrapping from a few days ago. “Don’t tell me you threw away the flowers.”

“I decided to keep them for myself, actually.”

Felix hums. “Because you really deserved them, didn’t you.”

“Come on, Felix,” Sylvain whines. “Can’t you make me another bouquet?” 

He sighs, and grabs the tissue paper. He doesn’t miss the way Sylvain laughs and leans in a bit closer, as if he himself couldn’t believe that this is happening. He doesn’t know how to make a bouquet to express a customer’s feelings - hell, he doesn’t even know how to use his words to express his own feelings. However, he can wrap some flowers and call it bouquet-ish. 

Felix remembers that the twine goes underneath, even as Sylvain’s gaze remains trained on him. He forces himself to focus on the task at hand and not on Sylvain’s crooked smile that widens with every passing second. His hands stutter, and he overcompensates by tightening the bow with a sharp tug. 

When finished, he shoves the bouquet into Sylvain’s face. “There,” he says. “A bouquet for a regretful idiot.”

Sylvain examines the flowers, while passing Felix a bill with his other hand. He looks at him and asks, “Do you know the language of flowers, Felix?” 

Felix hits the cash register buttons with his fingers, and the old thing makes a loud noise when its money drawer pops open. He doesn’t trust himself not to stutter if he looks back up. “The lilies mean give me a quarter next time so I can give you even change.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re lying.” 

Some of the coins that Felix forcibly puts into Sylvain’s palm clatters onto the floor. “Those are pretty bold words from a customer.”

“What about a friend?” 

Felix stares. He searches for any deception, but there is something startlingly honest in how Sylvain spoke now that he did not recognize before. Felix Hugo Fraldarius doesn’t wrap flowers, he doesn’t get regulars, and he certainly doesn’t make friends at flower shops unless it’s the end of the world. 

But if the end of the world is just Sylvain’s warm eyes and low voice, then Felix doesn’t think he minds the burn.

“You’re still not getting a discount,” he ends up saying, and it’s not quite what he means, but maybe the wrinkled tissue paper and frayed twine convey the message easily enough. 

Sylvain understands. It’s in the way he just shakes his head and goes, “I wouldn’t expect any less.” 

-

Sylvain keeps visiting. Felix learns that he’s studying Law at the same university that Felix goes to, but he’s two years ahead. He learns that Sylvain doesn’t really like his family much, enjoys chess, and maybe, probably, prefers blondes.

They don’t talk too much about the girls that Sylvain is buying the bouquets for. Felix doesn’t know who they are, and Sylvain doesn’t seem that happy talking about them anyway. So, they chat about everything and nothing besides those girls: how winter is definitely superior to summer, what the university cafeteria food is like, and why older brothers are so shitty. 

Dimitri asks how far Felix has to go until he reaches his goal. Felix realizes that he hasn’t cashed his last paycheck. 

-

Ingrid comes by during a shift and decides to stay until she has to leave for her afternoon class. Felix didn’t give her permission, but frankly, Ingrid hasn’t really listened to anyone since she turned eight years old and got a pair of cowgirl boots. So, she leans against the back door to the greenhouse, browsing her phone aimlessly while Felix actually does something for society.

She’s still here when Sylvain comes through the door with the bell twinkling, and says, “Hey, Felix.” 

Felix expects him to come up to the counter, and for them to begin talking as they always do. Instead, he pauses. Ingrid is looking up from her phone now, and Felix sees Sylvain’s eyes flicker back and forth between them. 

“Felix, I know I said women enjoy the brooding type,” Sylvain starts, carefully, “but frankly, I didn’t expect that you could still manage to attract any women with your grouchy attitude.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Felix snaps. “It’s just Ingrid.” 

“ _Just_ Ingrid?” she repeats, as if this is the worst thing he has ever said. “Thanks, Felix. Glad to see our fifteen year friendship is nothing to you.”

“Well, I’m Sylvain,” he says, putting a hand on his chest. He comes away from the entrance and takes five easy strides until he’s face to face with them. “I like to think that I’ve built a steady three month relationship with Felix.” 

Ingrid widens her eyes, and looks at him. “Is that true, Felix?”

Felix frowns. “I don’t keep track.”

“Because he enjoys my company so much,” Sylvain interjects. “It’s like we’ve known each other forever.” 

“Well then, I’m just Ingrid.” She holds her hand out for him to shake. “Apparently.”

He, instead, takes it and leans down to kiss the back of her hand. Felix's stomach curls in on itself inexplicably when Sylvain says, “You’re just beautiful.” 

Ingrid snorts, unphased as she pulls her hand away. “I can’t believe you keep this kind of company, Felix.”

“He doesn’t bring any of his dates,” he mutters under his breath. “I wasn’t aware how truly insufferable he is.”

Sylvain straightens himself and grins. “Thanks for reminding me what I came here for, Felix.” 

“Whatever,” he bites back. Felix’s hands no longer shake when Sylvain watches him make bouquets, but he makes sure that the bow is messily tied and the flowers are from yesterday’s delivery on purpose. 

Sylvain takes the bouquet and doesn’t mention anything. Perhaps he just doesn’t notice. “Well, I have to leave now, but it was a pleasure to meet you, fair Ingrid.” He steps back to do a flamboyant bow. 

She curtsies. Felix doesn’t think she’s curtsied since they were five years old and she still had to wear a petticoat to backyard parties. “Pleasure’s all mine, Sylvain.” 

Sylvain then looks at Felix and says in a softer voice, “See you around, Felix.”

It’s almost enough for Felix to feel bad about sabotaging the bouquet. He huffs, and retorts without malice, “Just go already.” 

He leaves but not without blowing a kiss to each of them. Felix tries his best not to smile. It’s only when the floorboards stop creaking and Sylvain has disappeared beyond the window that Ingrid speaks up in the silence. 

“Hey, Felix. Does Sylvain hate his girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. It takes a moment for Felix to process before he turns to ask, “Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“Oh, no reason.”

-

Ingrid [8:30pm]: I think I know why Felix has been asking for so many shifts lately. 

Felix [8:31pm]: DONT you dare 

Ingrid [8:32pm]: ;)

Dimitri [8:34pm]: What’s happening? 

Ingrid [8:35pm]: Lol

Dimitri [8:50pm]: Guys?

-

One day, Sylvain doesn’t ask for flowers. 

“Just surprise me,” he says. Late afternoons on a weekday are the slowest hours, they’ve realized, and Felix allows Sylvain to stay longer than usual. He’s leaning against the counter casually in his dress shirt and well-fitting trousers. Felix knows he is usually about to go on a date if he wears this, but tries his best not to dwell on it.

Felix narrows his eyes. “This isn’t a restaurant, Sylvain.” 

“Just humour me, Felix.” Sylvain moves away from the counter to stare at the foliage that line the walls. His crimson head brushes against a planter hung from the ceiling. “You work at a flower shop - you must have a favourite or something.”

He thinks about it. Over the past few months, he’s learned the names of plants and flowers - knows what different petals feel between calloused fingers and which stems are hardier than others. 

Dimitri likes to get sentimental about some, especially with the blue hydrangeas. He says it reminds him of his childhood home. Felix, too, remembers flowers growing in his garden that are dutifully tended to by Dimitri’s mother. In fact, his first memories were running around in that same garden, and putting the hydrangeas in his mouth because he thought it was food at the wise age of three. 

Dedue likes the rosemary plant they have in the greenhouse. Felix only knows this because he’s seen him pick off pieces of the plant sometimes. When he asked, Dedue replied that he used it in his cooking for his younger sister. Felix would never admit it out-loud, but he thinks the world would probably be a better place if all older brothers were like Dedue. 

However, for Felix, his favourite flower is devastatingly simple. 

“Something that I can wrap and sell,” he answers. 

Sylvain snorts. “Come on, Felix. You never imagined someone leaving roses on your front doorstep before?”

Felix makes sure to bump him lightly with his shoulder when he leaves his spot behind the counter. Sylvain only laughs, and nudges him back slightly. They stand side-by-side, staring at the tiers of fresh bouquets Dedue wrapped in the morning.

The ones on display exist for someone to pick up and leave without a second thought, but each bouquet is a cone of fresh colour and aroma. Every bouquet went through the arduous process of Dedue holding up two differently coloured ribbons against the plastic before tying it with a flourish. 

Felix thinks about the bouquet he gave three days ago, with dirt he wiped off hastily before handing it to Sylvain. He feels some guilt. (But if Sylvain minded, he would’ve said something, wouldn’t he?)

 _Just choose anything_ , he thinks. _It’s not a big deal._ Felix’s hand moves on its own, and he grabs a tiny cactus on the shelf. The succulents go unnoticed among the sprays of flowers and he doesn’t think anyone has ever bought one in the time Felix worked here. 

He hands Sylvain the cactus, and he holds it carefully between his fingers. Sylvain blinks twice and coos, “He’s a cute little guy, huh?”

“Don’t try to flirt with him now.” 

“I’m not that insatiable, Felix,” he whines. “I think I’ll name him...Sylvain Jr.”

Felix cringes. “That’s an awful name.”

“Let’s hear your suggestion then.”

He crosses his arms, and proclaims confidently, “Death Spike.”

Sylvain chokes on his spit. He begins to laugh and laugh, and even when Felix shoves him lightly, he can’t help but continue to shake with laughter. Finally, as he is wiping his tears away, Felix asks, “What’s so funny?” 

“It’s just the perfect answer,” he replies simply. 

Felix finds himself flushing at his answer. Nothing, it seems, can ever prepare him for Sylvain. Turning away, he mutters, “Any name is better than Sylvain Jr.”

“I’ll take good care of Death Spike,” he says. Sylvain balances the plant on the large palm of his hand. And for some reason, Felix suddenly feels that he’s at the complete mercy of Sylvain Jose Gautier, just like the damn tiny cactus.

-

Felix receives the text message while he’s on his run. Spring treads closer with each passing day, and it allows him to run outside after class without being submerged in darkness. Sunset paints his neighbourhood in gold and the burn in his legs is welcome. He is about to ignore the text, but he’s past his daily kilometre mark anyway, so he stops to pull out his phone. 

Dimitri [6:30pm]: Can you check if the greenhouse is locked? :( I forgot to check. 

Felix [6:35pm]: Weren’t you just there?

Dimitri [6:36pm]: Yes, but Dedue and I are already on our way to the restaurant and I would hate to be late to our reservation. 

Dimitri [6:40pm]: Felix? :(

Felix [6:41pm]: fine

Dimitri [6:41pm]: :)

He runs back down the street with his shoes breaking across old, familiar pavement. Dimitri and Dedue both forgetting to lock the greenhouse door is incredibly out of character. Felix wrinkles his nose thinking about what they could be doing to be distracted and also at the smell of urine in the alley he passes through to reach the back of the shop. 

His feet stop in place when Felix recognizes the broad shoulders stretching the suit jacket. How could he not recognize him? He sees this view walking away from him with his dress shoes scuffing old plankwood every week.

“Sylvain?”

He turns around, and in his hands, is already a bouquet of red roses. Felix can’t really imagine a version of Sylvain without a bouquet in his hands. The sunlight splits through the plastic wrapping into blinding spots of light.

“Hey, Felix.” His voice is low, raspy even. He’s been using this tone more often.

Felix gulps. Somehow, without a counter and the apron, the world feels smaller than ever between them. The sweat dripping down his neck from his jog is uncomfortable. “You got flowers today?” 

“Yeah. I came by and had Dimitri wrap them for me.”

Silence descends upon them, and there’s something different that Felix can’t quite recognize here. It’s the way Sylvain is standing with his hand tucked neatly into his pocket while the other holds the huge bouquet close to his chest. 

“Uh, Dimitri asked me to check if the greenhouse was locked or not,” Felix says, dumbly. He makes a weak gesture towards the building. 

“Oh.” There’s a pause. Then Sylvain says, “The greenhouse, huh? What do you have?”

“The larger plants that can’t fit out front.” 

“That’s cool,” he replies. 

Felix wants to know why Sylvain is here - in his nice suit with his nicer bouquet that Felix didn’t wrap, in the alley that smells like piss. Felix should say something about how Sylvain is going to be late to his date, but the words get caught up in his throat and stumble together as, “Do you want to take a look inside? At the greenhouse?”

Sylvain lights up, and the familiar sight soothes the anxious knot beginning to form in his stomach. “Do you take all the pretty boys into the back of the shop?” 

“I don’t make it a habit to waste my time with pretty boys,” Felix mutters. He turns the door open and it gives way easily. The setting sunlight illuminates the small space in yellows and oranges. Among the plants, there are several tables pressed up against the wall to emulate a break room too. No chairs, but Dimitri insists that the buckets work. Felix finds the old flower pot on the table and shakes out the old key from inside onto his palm.

He turns to see Sylvain still holding the bouquet as he looks around the greenhouse. Dimitri used a bright pink bow to tie the bouquet together and it is garishly sincere. Felix hopes that the woman doesn’t throw his bouquet away.

Felix emerges from his thoughts when he hears an old pop song. He whips his head around to see Sylvain, who left his bouquet sitting on a table to fiddle with an old radio.

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “What are you doing?”

“It’s just the radio,” Sylvain replies. He turns the knob to increase the volume for the woman singing. Static interferes with her lower notes and breaks up her voice into pieces. “You’re telling me that you don’t listen to music, Felix?”

“I don’t listen to the radio,” Felix clarifies. 

Sylvain sets the radio down and leans back against the table. “So, you spend all your free time making bouquets angrily too?” 

“I listen to music, Sylvain,” he retorts while rolling his eyes. “Just not the radio. And I don’t dance either, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to do.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Now why would you think that?” 

_“Sylvain.”_

Sylvain, with his blazer open and white collar pressed, holds out a hand for him to take. It means nothing and everything in the greenhouse that smells like fertilizer and wet dirt. He looks like a romantic metaphor and liquid sunshine. Suddenly, Felix doesn’t know how to say no for the first time in his life. 

“Come on, Felix,” he says with a smile. “Just dance with me.” 

Felix takes his hand, and Sylvain pulls him in physically - hand on his waist while he is maneuvered to hold Sylvain’s shoulder. He follows Sylvain’s lead as they spin in slow circles around some broken pots and dirt marks. The music completely cuts out several times but the empty static enhances the sound of their feet sliding against the ground. 

Sometimes, Felix miscalculates and their feet bump into each other. His hand in Sylvain’s feels slightly too sweaty and small, and he may be gripping too hard. He knows he’s too rough when he accidentally steps straight onto Sylvain’s shiny loafers with his old runners. He’s feeling guilty enough to quickly mutter, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sylvain replies with a slight wince. “I’ve had people step on my feet on purpose.” 

“You’re an idiot.” Felix frowns. Then he adds, because he feels like it’s important, “Stop buying flowers for girls you don’t like.”

“I can’t. It’s the only way I know how to spend the obscene amounts of money I’ve inherited from my family.” 

If Felix wasn’t so intent on not stepping on Sylvain’s feet again, he’d let himself laugh. Instead, he just huffs lightly and squeezes Sylvain’s shoulder a bit harder. “You’re the worst.”

The song has changed into an old pop hit from two years ago. They continue to slowly sway together against the rhythm. They don’t stop and Felix doesn’t really have the nerve to pull away. They keep shuffling side-to-side because maybe, they were never dancing to the music in the first place.

“If I stopped buying flowers,” Sylvain says, quietly. “I’d have to stop seeing you.”

The sun has finally set below the horizon. They are now slow-dancing in the grey of the greenhouse, just as it was the morning when Felix first arrived months ago in the winter. He remembers Dimitri’s excitement about the white flower blooming, and how he couldn’t really match it or understand at the time. He still doesn’t understand what it’s like to be attached to leaves and dirt. 

“You’re here now,” Felix murmurs. 

He nods. “I am.”

To be honest, Felix doesn’t think he completely understands personal relationships either. Dimitri and Ingrid were already a part of the Fraldarius family package before he was born - they were going to be in his life whether he wanted to or not. He’s thankful that they’re decent people, at least. 

The rest of his relationships are a mystery. He doesn’t really remember how his friendship with Annette or Ashe started, except that they both decided to sit next to him during lectures since their first group project together. He doesn’t know if Dedue counts, but he thinks not being fired by now is indicative of fondness, if not pity.

Then, there’s Sylvain. The newest person in his life - and Felix actually knows how it started. He pushed himself into Felix’s world in his tailored suit and never tried to leave afterwards. He returned every week with new flowers to buy and a new girl to waste his time. Sometimes, he’d waste the girl’s time by staying too long to talk to Felix instead of going on his date. 

“Did you want me to get you a refund on that bouquet of yours then?” Felix jokes weakly. He knows how to wisecrack with Sylvain. It’s what he’s been doing for the past three months. However, everything changes when Sylvain is looking down at him like he’s something precious and his palms are getting sweatier by the minute. 

“If I knew refunds were an option, I would’ve asked for my money back for each failed date.” Sylvain laughs. They both know every date has failed. 

Felix shakes his head. “You can’t blame my bouquets for your terrible love life.”

“Well, the problem isn’t my shining personality, that’s for sure.” 

After that, they fall into a comfortable silence as their feet finally begin to move around each other in rhythmic patterns. The last time Felix danced like this was in middle school gym class with a girl who somehow looked like she hated it even more than Felix did. Sylvain probably never had that problem. His hand on Felix’s waist feels firm and confident. Why would any girl say no to this? 

Felix is forced out of his thoughts when Sylvain says, “Dimitri is a nice guy, you know. He gave me a discount once he realized who the flowers were for.”

“Dimitri is an idiot and doesn’t know how to take advantage of loyal customers.” Although, it doesn’t surprise Felix to hear Sylvain say that. He’s witnessed it happen before with a man buying flowers for a proposal to his girlfriend of ten years. Several funny anecdotes and a sob story later, Dimitri was willing to give the man the roses for free. Felix had to excuse himself to the greenroom to stop himself from killing Dimitri with a spade.

“I think you don’t really know how customer loyalty programs work, Felix,” Sylvain teases. He emphasizes it with a squeeze on his waist that sends something bright and electric down Felix’s spine. “You’re supposed to _reward_ your loyal customers.”

“So, what did you tell him to get you the discount?” Felix asks, with a raise of his eyebrow. “Did you tell him that the girl was dying and her final wish was to _smell her favourite roses one last time_?”

Sylvain snorts. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I just told him the truth.”

Felix remembers Ingrid’s question several weeks ago. A joke, really - if Sylvain hates his girlfriend. Truthfully, Felix still doesn’t know. Sylvain never shows a huge disdain for the numerous women he talked about; it’s more like disinterest. He seems more content to just talk with Felix about anything else. There are times that Felix had to force him out of the shop so he would stop making the girl wait any longer.

If he’s just buying his terrible bouquets to talk to Felix, then who is _this_ bouquet for? This bouquet from a florist that actually cares about customers and knows how to express love through petals. Has Sylvain finally found someone who deserves better than squished flowers from a scowling florist? Has he found someone that is worth more than their over-the-counter conversations?

“Hey, Felix,” he murmurs. “Do you want to know who the flowers are for?”

Felix suddenly remembers where he is, who he is with and more importantly, _who he is._ He’s not a dainty florist in a flower shop love story. Felix is just like his bouquets: all tied up and forced together by ribbon and willpower. He can see the huge bouquet if he cranes over his shoulder and the roses are nearly as crimson as Sylvain’s hair.

He realizes it doesn’t matter who the flowers are for, because whoever she is, Sylvain chose her over Felix. 

He forces himself backwards and away from Sylvain. “Maybe you should just go to your date,” Felix spits out bitterly. “You don’t want to be late.”

His warm, coy smile disappears, and Sylvain’s face goes completely blank before curling into a hurt expression. Felix knows what a wilting flower looks like, but to see Sylvain’s face do the same thing makes him realize that he did something terribly wrong. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. Then, louder and sharper as if to make up for it, “Right. Yeah. Don’t want to keep _her_ waiting.”

Sylvain leaves the greenhouse without the bouquet. Instead of creaking plank wood, Felix just hears fast, heavy steps across pavement. Felix thinks it’s the first time he’s ever seen Sylvain walk away from him without something in his hands. 

Before Felix leaves the greenhouse, he tries to preserve the bouquet for Sylvain to come get tomorrow during his shift. Sylvain doesn’t come back, the bouquet wilts, and Felix has to throw it away. And god, he feels like shit.

-

It’s been one week since his encounter with Sylvain. Felix tells himself that it’s a mere coincidence - that something came up for Sylvain to prohibit his daily visits. Maybe it’s just another game of his. Sylvain will come back in a few weeks with his same smile and say that he’s glad Felix didn’t leave before he could say goodbye, and Felix will reply that he would never let Sylvain get the last word. 

However, life isn’t always about conversation banter across a counter - and Felix is reminded that he is running out of time when Ingrid asks, “Is it true that you just need to work another week until you reach your goal?” 

“Something like that,” he replies. Felix had planned out his shifts and paychecks so that work wouldn’t overlap with finals to reach his goal. He could continue, of course - and Felix tells himself with the extra money, he could afford a katana stand that would be a great coffee table centrepiece. At the same time, he thinks it doesn’t really matter anymore.

“I bet you’re ecstatic.” Ingrid sips from the coffee that Felix decided to forfeit after losing his appetite. He’s already wearing his apron in the coffee shop after returning home without noticing that he didn’t change out of uniform. 

Felix only needs to work five more days until he can quit. He gets a customer kind enough to tip him a five dollar bill. Felix wonders how to give an apology bouquet to someone if you don’t even know where to find them. 

-

Dedue stands beside Felix, shoulder to shoulder while they work on wedding bouquets. The red roses mock him. He thinks about Sylvain’s crest-fallen face and he snaps another flower clean in half. Felix curses and throws the flower away into the growing pile of rejects. He feels Dimitri’s eyes on him as he grabs new roses for the arrangement. 

Before he can try wrapping again, Dedue gently takes the poor flower out of his hands and murmurs, “Go take a break.”

Felix leaves the shop, but not before ripping his apron off this time. 

Somehow, the same thoughts still plague him even when his apartment is void of any sort of flowers. He paces back and forth before he decides to make dinner. He’s eating his second bowl of instant ramen when he receives a text message from Dimitri. 

Dimitri [9:14pm]: Thought of you. :) 

His next text is a link to a video of a man taking an old rusty knife and sharpening it back to its former glory. It has several million views already and Felix has seen it on his timeline ten times before. However, he recognizes the attempt to cheer him up so he sends a cat gif in response. 

Dimitri sends a cat gif back. It’s a cat dangling from a branch with the words, “Hang in there!” in sparkly bold letters underneath. 

Felix appreciates the sentiment.

-

His penultimate shift is with Dimitri. It’s a slow day, which means that he suffers under Dimitri looking sadly at him every five minutes like a very big, pathetic dog. As they near closing, the shop is painted in crimson and orange hues. Felix wonders if he will ever look at roses or sunsets the same way again. 

After what feels like the sixteenth time making eye-contact with Dimitri across the room, he finally snaps. “Don’t look at me like that. You know this job wasn’t permanent for me.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Dimitri agrees. He’s refilling the watering can with an old hose outside the greenhouse. “Perhaps, I thought that you would enjoy it enough to stay.” 

‘Enjoy’ is a strong word. Felix would be lying if he said that he didn’t mind the methodical step-by-step process required for each plant. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t mind seeing Dedue work as a master of the craft. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t mind steadily improving his skills over the past few months.

But enjoy? Yeah, he’d rather be dead than admit he enjoyed anything other than morning jogs and teriyaki to _Dimitri_ of all people. 

“I will not miss being the worst employee in the shop,” is all he says. 

Dimitri shrugs again. He never knows how to get to the point quick enough. “I do not think you are the worst employee. You simply have a tendency to put effort into things you care about. I think you express that with your clumsiness and roughness. Your poor bouquets were not due to lack of care, but the opposite.”

Felix stares. He watches Dimitri enter the greenhouse to water the fern before saying, “Then, why did you hire me at a goddamn flower shop if you knew that?”

“Well,” Dimitri hums. “At the time, you seemed to be quite desperate.” 

Felix throws a flower at Dimitri’s head and it lightly bounces off him when he laughs. Felix makes sure Dimitri remembers to lock the greenhouse this time and he wonders when sunsets became about how the light filters through the windows rather than the time to close shop. 

-

Dedue lets him work alone on his last day at work. He works Saturday afternoon, mostly selling pre-wrapped bouquets that Dedue made in the morning. One woman even buys a cactus after spending ten minutes looking at the bouquets. Felix doesn’t think about asking what she’ll name it - they’re not close like that anyway. 

The pleasant warmth of spring outside finally matches the bright colours within. Felix doesn’t think he’ll miss the plankboards or lack of heating. He’ll definitely not miss the weird sappy looks that Dimitri and Dedue give each other during shared shifts. 

The last customer comes ten minutes before closing. He’s a man with mousy brown hair who grabs the first bouquet he sees on display. His suit doesn’t fit right. Felix has to smooth the wrinkly bill he gives to fit it into the cash register. 

Felix makes sure to mark down whether he watered the plants before he leaves. Amidst his shift, he notices that one of Dimitri’s favourite plants, the peace lily plant, has two blooming flowers now. He thinks that he’ll text him later so Dimitri will have something to look forward to for tomorrow.

Inventory checked. Greenhouse locked. Apron on the nail rung. Felix dusts the dirt off his bag from throwing it onto the greenhouse floor before he slings it over his shoulder. Across the cramped main shop space, he exits Bleum and closes the door with a firm shut as the bell jingles.

Felix hears the fast click-clacking of shoes against pavement and he thinks that Dimitri may have forgotten something. When he turns, he sees crimson tousled hair and a wrinkled blazer jacket. 

Felix holds the key in his hand, still half-turned away from Sylvain. There are a million things to say. “Are you holding a bouquet of weeds?”

Sylvain tightens his clutch. There’s dirt hanging from where he pulled them out savagely. “Yeah?” he says, like he doesn’t quite believe what’s happening either. It comes out between heaving gasps.

Felix’s next question. “Are those weeds for me?” 

Sylvain makes a helpless gesture. “You didn’t like the roses.”

Truthfully, this is the most pathetic Sylvain that Felix has ever seen. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days and the blazer doesn’t even match his trousers, like the jacket was the afterthought. If most people saw someone as sad looking as Sylvain, they would probably pity him.

Of course, Felix just barks out, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sylvain sighs. “I wasn’t going to have you make your _own bouquet_ , Felix. I had to go to Dimitri instead and he told me to meet you at the greenhouse.”

The memories he repeated to the point of nausea begin to flood back in completely different lighting. It’s brighter, redder, and fills him with something other than regret. The sincerity, the nervous fidgeting, and the fond looks; they were all for him? 

And more importantly, “Those flowers were for _me_?” he asks. 

“All the flowers were for you, Felix. Every bouquet I bought was to just see you. I didn’t even have a date half the time.” 

_Oh. Fuck._

Felix remembers the careful feet shuffling in the greenhouse. Each time their feet stumbled into each other’s paths, Sylvain laughed it off and didn’t want to stop. It was Felix who pulled away. It was, maybe, Felix who didn’t believe that he could be loved with his fraying twine and ripped tissue paper.

The truth is that flowers do not bloom easily. Without enough water, they shrivel up. With too much water, they wilt. Sunlight is a necessity, but scorching heat leads to disaster. And even with all the care in the world, there is nothing you can do to stop their eventual demise. What a waste, Felix once thought. To spend your money and time on something doomed to fail. 

Felix takes two steps forward, and then skips a step to jump down from the old porch. He reaches his hand out to grab Sylvain by the jacket collar and says, “I’m going to kiss you.” 

When Felix pulls Sylvain down into a kiss, their mouths crash awkwardly against each other. He didn’t say it’d be gentle. Sylvain has to drop the weed bouquet on the ground to carefully hold Felix by the face and loosen his jaw so their lips can part for one another. 

Sylvain is the first to separate from him. He stares down at Felix with a crooked smile that, even for him, looks a bit more lopsided. He wears a dazed expression and some saliva is on the corner of his mouth. The dusk after sunset has turned everything grey except his red lips. “I really, really, really, like you, Felix,” Sylvain admits. 

“Then kiss me again,” he whispers.

Relationships are like flowers. They don’t last, and they require a certain delicacy when handling them. Felix has never been good at being gentle, but for the first time, he feels like he’s finally blooming.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! every kudos/comment is appreciated. august 7th is my first sylvix fanfic anniversary and im still blown away how much people actually like to read my writing. 
> 
> without getting too sentimental, this event has been really really fun and im really happy to have met so many people because of it! if you're reading this and thinking "maybe that's me", then yes. it is definitely you.
> 
> my twitter is [@aikusoren](https://twitter.com/aikusoren)


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